


Quiet Lights

by HealthDrink



Series: Under the Moonlit Sky - Pharmercy Archive [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ace Mercy, Angst?, But after the X-Mas comic, But only if you squint, But only leg wise, Concept Mercy can have a canon element like this, Day 3: Let's Chill, Day 3: Marriage, F/F, Gen, If you are reminded of a certain comic, Implied Sexual Content, In My Fic?, It's a headcanon of mine, Mercy is also half-black here, One Shot, Pharah is an amputee, Pharah x Mercy - Freeform, Pharmercy, Pharmercy Appreciation Week, Pharmercy Week 2018, Rest assured its the same one, This is set before the Recall, Warning: can get super cheesy at times, it's more likely than you think, rocket angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 14:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealthDrink/pseuds/HealthDrink
Summary: Angela reflects on her relationship with Fareeha, safe within the outskirts of the Swiss Alps, as her beloved wife sleeps.For Pharmercy Week 2018Day 3: Let's Chill/Marriage





	Quiet Lights

The view was spectacular.

After driving through the heavy traffic of Adelboden's rumbled roads with carefully rented cars, hiking through familiar paths thought lost through the passage of time, they finally made it. Through their journey, the two travelling women discovered more than they knew about each other. Playful tricks, painful puns, easily bruised egos cured away with a simple kiss and two. The familiar city life was more comfortable for awhile, but the memories of Angela's lost childhood called for her presence at the outskirts of Adelboden, near the Alps. Angela was hesitant to suggest trekking downwards towards less modern facilitates, afraid the family cabin's weary condition would displease her wife.

It still was a little unbelievable.

She, Angela. Had a wife. _She?_  The same 'her nose is always dived into work' Angela Ziegler?

Who would believe such a thing.

Overwatch was a memory of the past. Distant, dearly remembered by some. Distant, wanting to be forgotten by many.

Angela met Fareeha at a cross road of her life. She was still a doctor, still a survivor, a solider at heart. She tried to keep her achievements in Overwatch locked away in a box. All of her regrets and painful memories of the Omnic Crisis were locked away in it. As Angela left what she had called home for years, a heavy heart moved forward, leaving her roots behind. Angela couldn't stay as Overwatch grew more powerful, but started to become engulfed in its own bubble wrap, started to believe its existence could matter without saving the people who made Overwatch in the first place. People were dying with or without Overwatch.

Angela couldn't just stay where she was.

Fareeha met Angela in the unforgiving desert of the Sahara as a young soldier, long after Overwatch fell, long after the fall of Zurich. The dream of her entire life, gone in an instant. Ana was already gone by the time they had encountered each other, but her legacy lived on under the soles of Fareeha's every step. At this point in time, it was only the second time they had met. Still, she pursued on, persevering on the battlefield and in every day life to protect the innocent from harm and from senseless dying.

When Angela met Fareeha, she barely remembered the child who admired her from afar.

Now she shuddered at the mere idea they could've never met again. Whether through death or simply through cruel circumstance.

They had gotten married in secret, away from the prying eyes of the media.

 **They**  never forgot who she was,  **they**  always reminded her who she  _really_  was.

When Overwatch was going through its golden age, she was Doctor Angela Ziegler.

_A prodigy._

_A monstrous talent._

_The scientific mind of her generation._

When Overwatch was disbanded, everyone globally wondered where she was.

_Where did the half-Tanzanian go?_

_Where was she when Overwatch needed her the most?_

_Has she gone out to experiment beyond the limits of science?_

Angela would've laughed that bullshit away, if that accusation didn't eat a year and a half away from her life, melting those gruesome months into a depressing pile of what its and could ifs. It felt twenty were forcibly gone at once whenever Angela recalled those nasty days, and that scar never truly left. So away.

Away from the media's suffocating nature.

Away from heavy responsibilities and what was expected from their duties all year round. Getting the media's burrowing echos out of her head forcefully, Angela took the hand that was offered to her so eagerly, so strongly held in her palm.

They have each other.

That's all what mattered to the both of them.

 

 

"We're almost there," Angela said. "I can see the trailhead from here."

Which, thankfully, stayed untouched from nearby farms and greedy estate builders, the only roaches who unfortunately survived the Omnic blitz bombarded upon Zurich all those years ago. Angela turned around.

Covered in three layers of fabric, Angela was amused to see the strong, unbent woman who stole her heart simply nod in agreement, shivering in response. Seeing such a brave, serious glimpse of mischief turn into a playful smile that promised nothing but great adventures and clear skies... to be then matched with a red nose that could only rival Rudolph's, Angela couldn't help but laugh a little, bringing a gloved hand tenderly to her lips. The redness of Fareeha's nose spread across her entire face, making both women laugh together whole-hearty.

Simply happy with each other's presence, like carefree children.

Angela lifted her head towards their destination. Fareeha's face lit again, just like the first time she had heard about the cabin's existence, as the Ziegler family heirloom slowly started coming within their sights, unspoiled by the war. A promise of assurance was squeezed gently against a curled bronze hand, tightening the hold in response.

If this is what the honeymoon phase was, Angela wished it never ended.

"We're here."

They were home.

* * *

After settling down, placing all of the supplies in their place and shutting all possible entrances to prevent intruders, Angela started telling Fareeha more about the cabin at her request. Fareeha made herself comfortable on the couch, thankfully dusted down quickly before the Ziegler representative could protest or clinically dot on the reliable solider without realising. Covering herself with a fresh blanket, Fareeha had her whole body covered up, making her look like a giant burrito.

Glancing towards her wife, Fareeha made sure to give an assuring look. With that simple gesture, Angela started talking about her family, holding up preciously framed memories from the sides, turning to an angle to make sure Fareeha could see them all.

The cabin was built by Angela's grandparents, from her mother's side. Her parents had met in the Zurich University through their youth, both brilliant in their respective fields. Her father eventually became an accomplished on field reporter for the United Nations, her mother moved on to become a highly respected scientist and sociologist. They had met through an interview after ten years, each surprised by how much they had changed, but both wanting to not let the other go out of their lives once they found each other.

"So, sort of like us?"

Angela chuckled a little, as she placed the aged family photo back onto the shelf, the kindling fire burning softly with the glowing coal resting beneath. Leaving a kiss on Fareeha's shiny nose, Angela enjoyed seeing her wife melt at the touch.

"Sort of. We met again at a much younger age they did."

Different circumstances. Her parents did find each other again during peace time, unlike them.

Angela was surprised to hold something warm being shoved right in her hands. Looking down, it was a mug full of hot chocolate.

"Drink, rouhi tieghi. We can afford to here."

Angela didn't know what to say. Was her over clouded mind too obvious? How did her wife already find the chocolate cupboard?

Smiling, she pointed out the second thought.

"You've made yourself comfortable here before I did." Gesturing with the mug, Angela playfully swatted Fareeha onto her chiselled diaphragm, already feeling growling vibrations rumbling with laughter. "Where did you find this? It's not exactly cheap."

Damn those puppy eyes of hers. Fareeha had already pocketed her hands into her spacious cargo pant pockets. "But I thought you only wanted the best for me? And here I thought you would've  _loved_  being pampered for a change..."

"Don't avoid the subject," Angela pressed on, a light hearted tone disharpening any pressure coming from the words. "How did you find this so fast?"

"Easy," Fareeha noted with a small, secretive smile on her face. "I just followed where you went as you unpacked our stuff."

Of  _course_. "And how did I not notice you left the shower as quickly as you did?"

This time, a bigger smile emerged, matching the smiles reflected in Fareeha's warm eyes. "I'm not telling you  _how_ , just that I  _did_."

Angela, being the serious reserved Swiss she was, made a big gasp and place a hand on her heart, striking blue orbs widening with a dramatic flair. "Keeping secrets from me already? You wound me, Fareeha." Feigning being actually hurt, Angela looked away with her eyes closed.

Before she could assure Fareeha that she was only teasing, Angela was crushed by an powerfully tender embrace without warning, the motion almost making Angela spill hot cocoa from her mug. It wouldn't have mattered had she done so. It felt like minutes were melting peacefully into hours, grain by grain, uncaring of what else happened around them. But the moment Angela was surrounded by unconditional support left the fairer woman slowly exhaling growing tensions out of her body. Like magic, it felt Fareeha was going through the same ordeal with her. They stayed huddled together, feeling safe in each other's arms.

It was Fareeha who first spoke, who first broke whatever illusion they shared during those few, blissful moments of shared contentment.

"I... didn't want to leave you alone. Maybe I was being selfish. I, I know you have a lot of memories in this cabin. But this place has been left alone to face all sorts of weather for many years. What if... what if you got hurt whilst I was elsewhere? I had to hurry up."

A simple gesture, really.

It didn't occur to Angela that the cabin might've needed some repairs. It was so strong, so reliable when she was just a toddler exploring the nearby woods, her vigilant parents always by her side. But when the cabin was left untouched by the war, time was not the same kind of benevolent force. There were many creaks only muscle memory helped her avoid. Like the splinter she saw earlier--

Angela's hold on Fareeha tightened, but this time, it was with a purpose.

Fareeha must've realised the mood changed, as her body form stiffened with the increase of strength in the hold.

"Fareehali." It wasn't as stern as expected. "Show me your hand."

Fareeha was tempted to say no. Sighing in defeat, she looked away, as she lifted a bandaged palm.

A wooden splinter was stuck in her hand, making it bleed slightly in the center.

"I'm sorry." That's all what Fareeha could say.

That bloody splinter was already loose, but when Fareeha opened the cupboard for inspection, a glass from the upper shelf slid downwards towards her face. To avoid it, her hands pivoted upwards, but one of them dove accidentally straight into the pointy end of the wooden sharpel. It took harshly forged military training to mute the ungodly pain felt acutely by the unprepared bundle of nerves the piece of wood landed onto.

She expected a reprimand. A glare. Or hell, Fareeha was expecting an outburst of some sort.

Angela kept staring at the hand, pensive in the silent process of thinking.

Finally, she spoke.

"You've been injured all this time... and I didn't realise."

Fareeha recognised that face. "Angie, no, look, it's  **my**  fault-"

Two tips from Angela's fingers made Fareeha's lips shut, beads of sweat still forming on her brow, still looking worried for Angela.

Of course. Not for her _own_  safety. But for  _Angela's_.

As if she deserved to be worried about.

"Why must you always be a solider, even here?" Angela finally said, after reapplying much needed ascetic and fresh bandages. The fabric of the tightened cotton wrapped around Fareeha's injury, which was no longer at risk for an infection, now for certain. Fareeha knew how to take care of herself. But the way the hand's injury was taken care of left her vulnerable to the foreign object embedded into her skin. It was done in a hastened manner, too clumsily. "You could've made this worse by leaving the splinter untreated. This could've led to internal bleeding, or an internal clot. What if it killed you during your sleep? How could I know what happened to you if I found you..."

Dead.

They were not invincible.

Angela never felt so, even when she fought under Overwatch's name. Even when she was a superhero but in name. But the thought of finding Fareeha dead, whether through a peace keeping raid against Isis or a simple wooden splinter, made Angela's face scrunch openly in fear. Every single little possible bad outcome the young couple could go through together in the mist of war flashed insistingly in the back of Angela's mind.

"I'm an idiot." A small voice made Angela lift her chin up slightly, wobbling a little in tone.

An assuring hand went for the sides of Angela's face, wiping away tears that escaped a tired gaze full of brimmed worries, used to be locked away by a well worn mask. Angela leaned onto the warmth of Fareeha's good hand, closing her eyes at the sensation.

"I didn't want to worry you, and look what I did."

They stayed like that for awhile, silence offering to be their bridge of communication in mutual understanding.

Angela opened her eyes again when she felt fuzzy cotton graze the other side of her cheek gently. Fareeha took Angela's face in her hands, never breaking eye contact. Angela closed her eyes in usion, craving for the simple connection that always made her heart flutter with love, a feeling so foreign to the Swiss, Angela wondered if she was still dreaming, still alone, knocked out by the sheer pressure of who she is.

Their kiss was soft and tender. Not rushed, within the vulnerable tent temporarily set in the endless dunes of the desert. Not hidden, as they couldn't stay too long in one place without arousing suspicion from the media and local gossip. No. They were simply together.

Just the two of them.

The only two people in the cabin broke the kiss before it became a little too heated. There were other pressing matters to do by.

Like Angela pinching Fareeha's sunkissed cheeks out of genuine affection.

" _Ow!_  Hey! What the- what was that for?"

"Oh you know exactly for what." That made Fareeha pause. "You still owe me more cocoa powder, Ms Fareeha  _Amari_."

Fareeha won't let THAT go down so easily. "I owe you nothing, madam. Only my whole life, heart and soul.  _But_  the chocolate was fair use."

"Fair use? You must've used at least five teaspoons to fill the mug this much."

" _Three_  teaspoons."

" _Four_."

Angela spied Fareeha's face. She was definitely on the verge of spilling the truth. The sweat beads might as well be converted into a free necklace.

"...Three and a half."

"... **How do you know**."

"I am the chocolate expert Fareehali,  _and_ ," Angela playfully thonked a flicked index finger onto Fareeha's temple. "I'm only teasing. It's not that important."

Fareeha gave up. She started laughing. " _Now_  you say that. Because you know the truth."

"Well  _yes_ , that helps."

Laughing together, enjoying they were able to talk about something so mundane, something  _painfully_  domestic, it almost felt they were a normal couple. Free of war. Free from everything. With that in mind, Angela placed a hand onto Fareeha's bandaged one, making the Egyptian freeze, non verbally wondering if she did something wrong. Lowering her head until her nose met staggering white, Angela brought the palm of Fareeha's hand to her lips, the bandage being the only barrier between the kiss and her wife's broken skin.

This made the Egyptian woman blush till the very tip of her ears, suddenly finding the family portraits more interesting than before.

"Do-do we have enough wood? We're okay for to-tonight, right amar?"

Angela's smile definitely matched the crescent moon's bemusement. "Yes. Yes we do."

"Go-good. But the kindled-"

"I'll chop the wood first thing in the morning tomorrow. You can help me with the fire later. Let's go make some mulled wine."

"Mulled wine?"

"Yes." Angela's eyes shone when Fareeha instantly rose from the couch. "Come with me, we need to get some oranges, some sugar... wait."

Angela stopped Fareeha, holding her forward a little by pushing onto Fareeha's broad chest with a _tiny_  bit pressure. "You forgot something?"

Fareeha's tilted neck really reminded Angela of a puppy. Those eyes didn't help. Angela booped Fareeha's nose very slowly, using the same index finger to curl it a few times in a 'come hither' gesture, landing the tip right at the centre of her lips.

"Over  _here_. Some  _sugar please_."

Sighing happily, Fareeha leaned down for a kiss... until she opened her eyes, seeing only an outline in the shape of an escaped Swiss doctor in front of her.

"What are you waiting for dear? The kitchen is over here~" Angela quickly leaned onto the kitchen door's frame, making cheesy kissing noises in the air with heartful loud smacks.

"Hey--!"

* * *

It was freezing cold outside the cabin. But inside, it didn't matter.

Angela rose from the comforting lull of sleep coming from the bed, the comforting embrace of Fareeha's warm arms. Making sure she was covered, Angela moved a few bangs away from Fareeha's sleeping form, who was currently sleeping like a baby. The gash on her hand remained healed. Her breaths were even, her face relaxed, buried in the pillows they shared.

Wearing her nightgown, Angela stared down towards Fareeha once more. Both of her legs were half gone, despoiled by an undetected landmine. Her prosthetics were on her side of the bed, left on a chair in case she had to wear them at night under dire circumstances. Despite her powerful physique, without her prosthetics, Fareeha's movements become very limited. She knows how to fight back. She always knew.

But that doesn't mean Angela does not worry.

Back were they weren't together, Fareeha had no one to guard her or make sure no harm came when she was at her most vulnerable state. No one to care for the leg linings, no one to hold when phantom limbs played tricks on her mental health. No one to share corny jokes with, to lift dampened spirits and lighten morale up, making people forget when they were too lonely, too affected to leave the mists of war unscratched. Somehow, she made it look so easy. Even when there was no one to care for the woman who saves many lives, asking for nothing in return.

Tracing the inked lines upon the surface of a sleeping sunset face, Angela wondered when she started yearning to see Fareeha's smiles form, to be the cause of many sunrises.

Angela had to stifle a laugh at the rising memory. Back were they weren't together, Fareeha mistook a chunky parcel that came from Tibet and, eventually Japan for a love letter, pretending to not be bristled at the _possibility_ that it contained something romance related. The parcels did follow Angela wherever they went, wherever the DWB camp was needed.

She wasn't half wrong. Angela wasn't blind to advances. Disinterested, but not blind.

Angela kept the first feather from the surprise parcel she received one Christmas day in the middle of a warzone, but returned all the ones that came after. Eventually, Genji stopped sending them, but still stayed in contact with Angela, becoming a penfriend in time, a window to a distant land. She was happy to read how Genji managed to return to how he used to be, and how he apologised for his past mistakes. He had gone down a dark path not too long ago, and despite all efforts, he never listened to her advice no matter the circumstance. Blackwatch,  **Moira**  (of  _all_  people Genji had to be assigned with) and Overwatch in general did not help Genji truly recover from his trauma.

If anything, Overwatch relished from it.

But to say he was part of the reason she left would be a lie. They were both powerless under the engulfing shadows of Overwatch, but both of the ex-Overwatch members shouldered responsibility for what they've done under that deceiving banner.

Until it became unbearable to hold. 

She left. Genji did too. Ana would've, had death not come for her first. Jesse. Mei is still reported missing, and Reinhardt...

In hindsight, Angela should've left earlier than she did. Maybe around the time Tracer or Torbjron did. But she remembered saying to herself, like a mantra. 'Stay. Like this you'll show you are strong.'

Better to be happy than to be strong. If used constantly, strength eventually fades.

Not all of them had the luxury to choose.

The old guard all left in disillusionment, leaving Gabriel and Jack go for each other's throats undisturbed, to the delight of the media's hungry jaws.

Perhaps it was a good thing Ana tried her best to not let Fareeha join Overwatch.

...Angela's hand went through her hair in frustration, not wanting to relive that memory. It didn't matter knowing back then, but  _now_ —

"Malak?"

Angela was jolted out of her thoughts, turning towards a half asleep Fareeha. Modesty didn't matter to Angela, but the way the bed's blanket hid Fareeha's whole body from view made a growl of frustration climb from the pits of her stomach. Said frustration vanished the moment Fareeha came closer, worry showing on her brow once more. Fareeha shifted closer towards Angela, the sheets crumbling a little due to the prostetics' weight leaning slightly on the mattress.

The ring on Fareeha's hand reflected Angela's vivid frustration, making her resigned in not managing to keep painful thoughts quietly to herself. The texture of cotton rested gently on Angela's palm, the cool - _clink_ \- metal sound of two golden rings made met a soft brush of shoulders, as Fareeha slowly locked Angela into a supportive embrace from behind, black locks snuggling close to the doctor's chest. "Are you alright?"

She really was her sliver lining in such dark times.

Angela nodded a little, tracing the muscle contours of Fareeha's arms, returning the embrace.

In return, Angela was pulled into a fiercer embrace, one that promised more than just one fleeting night of comfort. Angela jumped forward, two slender arms opted to hug Fareeha's neck, leaving tender kisses against old scars, enjoying the way Fareeha shivered with every touch. Angela's silk gown slid open with the movement, making alabaster skin rise to a rush of goosebumps to the sudden exposure. Without hesitation, Angela saw a trembling bandaged hand reach for the silk's edge... and closed the only curtain between their naked skin with the hem of her gown, reaching back to cover her heart.

The tenderness behind Fareeha's eyes made Angela almost burst into tears.

They stayed locked in their embrace; two souls wounded by the haunts of an never ending war, two silhouettes whispering tender words of comfort, two women silently promising the safety for the other, holding each other as only lovers do.

 _Yes dear._  There was no need for them to say anything.

_I'm alright._

 

 

Breaking away from Fareeha's warm embrace slightly, Angela moved the prosthetics' chair away from the mattress, not wanting them to accidentally land on Fareeha as they slept. If Fareeha needed them, she had Angela by her side now.

"Are you sure?" Dammit. Fareeha could always tell when she was troubled or not, even when they weren't married.

Angela was surprised, back then, to see Fareeha being jealous. A little surprised. A little... confused? Happy? Scared? Jealous of  _whom_? Genji was a good friend. A dear old friend. He went through harsh trials, they all did. But Fareeha had no reason to be jealous of... of anyone, for that matter. So... why was Angela happy that the (usually, Fareeha is full of surprises) serious woman got a tiny, weeny, **tinsy**  bit jealous at the...

Po-ssi-bili- _ty_  she was taken?

If Anglea was **un** intentionally flirty before, she became a walking, breathing wind machine with _how much air_ she started **in** tentionally blowing towards the Egyptian. ...Which all bounced off Fareeha as all flirting attempts were for naught. ( _Mein gott **who**  was the frustrating one between them again_?)

That all changed when she heard Fareeha was arm wresting her fellow soldiers to boost up morale in the camp area a few months after finding out  _she jelly_. And was yet to be beaten by any one of them.

Yet~

A small smile started creeping up at the memory. _Our first kiss..._

Fareeha started to visibly relax the more Angela smiled.

"Yes Faree, I'm sure. Now... can I join you? I rather miss you~"

Fareeha scooted back towards one side of the bed very eagerly, letting Angela be the little spoon between them, the scents of Fareeha's natural musk and the heated electric blanket quietly doing its job made Angela feel safe and at home. Angela giggled at the sensation of Fareeha's nose booping the back of her neck very gently, enjoying the tight embrace. Fareeha's smile increased tenfold when Angela gleefully decided to do without the nightgown, the room being already cozy as it was. Angela hummed in delight as Fareeha started to leave tender smooches at the crook of her exposed neck, downwards towards the back of her Angela. Feeling a strong hand go through her hair, gently untying all knots from the mischievous cool breezes still loudly tapping on the cabin's sturdy windows, Angela arched outwards towards her squishy armour in disguise with wordless contentment, stretching forward like a cat.

This movement made Fareeha laugh a little, as she was silently aiming for her favourite stars permanently resting on Angela's back, but ended up giving her wife a sloppy kiss on the nearest eye instead. Wiggling her firm butt towards a bemused Swiss, as 'punishment', Fareeha laughed when Angela followed her movements, which ultimately led to Fareeha becoming the little spoon in the bed, eager to get cuddled into her wife's enveloping arch like a rumbling jetpack. 

They were blissfully silent for many uncountable minutes.

And then...

"So~ is  **this**  the part when we realise it's so  **cold**  outside, we're  **stuck** in here, there is only  **one**  blanket in this  **lonely**  cabin and we have to...  **share**? Mm- _yes_?"

Angela played along her wife's cheeky analysis of their situation. "Fareeha, we're married. And we share the bed already." True,  _buuut..._

Fareeha wiggled her eyebrows, a crooked grin matching her smiling eyes. "I  _know_. Let  _me_  be the extra one for a change, alby?"

Shaking her head against the pillows, Angela sighed when Fareeha leaned upward to leave a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you malak, my angel. You have so much patience with me."

Turning to leave a kiss in return on her wife's beautiful dark skin, enjoying seeing Fareeha's lean muscular body sink further into the comforting connection she could find willingly in Angela's arms, Angela whispered softly towards brown warm eyes, wanting to treasure this moment in her heart forever. She snuggled further in the bed, letting go of tensions growing in her stomach.

"That's because I love you too, Fareehali. Now sleep soldier, before I remove your boxers again."

"...Is that a promise?"

" _Fareeha_."

* * *

They both slept, curled into each other's arms, resting peacefully against the dip of the mattress, the bright moon being their only source of light.

It seemed nothing could disturb the two lovers.

* * *

It was deep into nightfall.

Fareeha rose first. A strange, growing noise started whistling at the drum of her ears. It... came from downstairs...?

Angela started rousing with her, confusion filling her drowsy state of mind. "Faree? Is... is this your mobile ringing?"

"Mmf...? No, I thought it was yours."

Regretfully rising up from the bed, wearing the discarded robe again, Angela followed the source of the sound, which grew louder through the echos of the cabin's narrow stairway. Strange.

It _does_  sound familiar...

 _'Angela?'_  Angela turned around. Fareeha's muffled voice asked from their room, her voice filling the cabin's corridor effortlessly.  _'Call me if you need me alright? I'll get out of the room if you can't find it.'_

Angela raced back towards their room. "Alright dear," Angela coaxingly replied, reopening the door slightly. "But I'll find it soon enough. Promise me you'll stay in the room, alright?"

"Okay, I promise." With that promise, her mind was at rest, closing the door again.

Angela walked towards the kitchen. Ah, that's where she left it-

The mobile was Angela's. But it was silent for a moment, blinking in the next.

There was an old pager Angela kept next to it, as it had represented a huge chunk of her life back when she was still young. Angela did not have the heart to throw it away, despite the many regrets it carried. And it was making the mobile brighten, lighting the entire room up with every ring.

It was ringing an old code, forgotten by many, but unmistakable to whom had once known that signal as their warcry, their call for victorious charges.

The mobile kept lighting as a beacon again.

 

 

 

And again.

 

 

 

And again.

 

 

 

And again.

 

 

 

It was Winston.

 

 

 

**\-- RECALL INITIATED: MERCY, REPORT --**

 

 

 

**\-- RECALL INITIATED: MERCY, REPORT --**

 

 

 

**\-- RECALL INITIATED: MERCY, REPORT --**

 

 

 

It was Overwatch.

 

_'Angela?'_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this one Angela is still happily married despite honeymoon's technically over in your face Voltron nobody dies see how easy it is _YEEEEEEEEEEEET_
> 
> Main inspirations for this piece: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1nbxh5xze4  
> And this comic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0-fyNbqrdc


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